The Boy-Who-Hid
by WriteSomethingBeSomething24
Summary: Harry grew up avoiding attention at all costs, it was usually much better for him to escape notice. When he arrived in the Wizarding World, it was easy for him to continue skating by unnoticed with everyone so focused on the Boy-Who-Lived and his adventures. But, when a mysterious man becomes one of his teachers in third year, his carefully built life comes crashing down around him
1. Chapter 1

Harry was hiding.

Dudley and his gang were wreaking havoc on the playground searching for their favorite mark. But, Harry was very good at doing this. Being unnoticed.

The boy had had a lot of practice at avoiding unnecessary attention. He had realized that if people didn't notice him then usually that meant less pain. It wasn't foolproof of course, his Aunt and Uncle would always see him exactly when he didn't want them to.

But, it usually worked at school. He was in the the last year of primary school and his teachers only remembered him when Dudley and his gang got him in trouble. Harry was never called on in class, and he had no friends. It was lonely, but it was better for him to not draw attention to himself. Besides, who would want to be friends with someone like him? Especially with Dudley's gang driving away anyone who was friendly enough to include him.

He was cautiously hopeful for the future though. Next year Dudley would be going to Smeltings Academy, a private secondary school, while Harry would be going to Stonewall High. It could be a new start for Harry- there would be no Dudley or his gang to prevent Harry from meeting new people and making a couple friends.

Harry was hiding in a bush, crouched down so that he could peer through the leaves at the 'hunters.' Thats what they liked to call this game, "Harry Hunting." Dudley's gang would spend the entire recess hunting him down, and Harry hated it when they caught him. It would usually end in pain.

But, Harry had gotten much better at this game since it first started. Now he was rarely caught, he liked to think that he blended into the background much better now. It helped that Harry was very small for his age, anyone looking at him would mistake him as younger than his 10 years. But, Harry seemed to be naturally able to blend in and not be seen, it was a useful talent that he used to its full extent.

Eventually, the boys got sick of searching for someone that wouldn't appear and went off to play football. Harry personally loved football, but he only ever got to play it in gym. If he even tried to play it during recess he would probably be jumped by Dudley's gang. Regardless of how skilled he seemed to be at the sport.

Slowly Harry crept out of his crouched position when he heard the bell ringing signalling recess as over. The boy moved quickly over to the school, but not too fast as to draw attention. Harry knew exactly the right way as to walk without sticking out from a crowd. It had to be casual, not forced.

He kept his head down, Harry knew that his bright green eyes were the only thing that stood out. They were vivid and slightly jaded and one glance was enough for them to stick in people's minds. Harry usually just tried to avoid them being seen. He easily avoided most eye contact.

Harry sat in the middle-back of the classroom. Close enough to see the board, yet not too far back that the teacher would think of him as one of the trouble-makers in the back of the class. It was the perfect position. Harry made sure to always turn in his homework too, especially after the blue-hair incident as he liked to call it.

Uncle Vernon got mad at him if he did better than Dudley, and Dudley was an idiot who barely passed and forced Harry to do his homework for him. So Harry made sure that his work was just slightly worse than the work he did for Dudley. It upset Harry, he knew he could do better in school- but he wasn't allowed to. He hoped that maybe at Stonewall High he would be able to do better without Dudley there forcing him to be at his level.

Harry knew that if he ever wanted a future away from the Dursleys he would have to do good in school so he could get a job that would take him far away from them. Harry was smart and realistic. He knew he would never be able to go to University. He had no money and the Dursleys would never pay for him to go to school. They only way would be to get a massive scholarship, but Harry thought the chances of him ever getting one were practically nonexistent. Who would ever give money to him when there were other, better people?

But, Harry knew that he had to at least try. He would be stuck with the Dursleys forever if he didn't do something. For now, he just planned on doing well in secondary school and maybe getting a job soon if his Uncle Vernon would let him. At least it would let him be out of that house.

Harry tried to focus on what his teacher was lecturing about, but it was difficult- he was so tired. Yesterday, Uncle Vernon had him repaint the entire shed and mow the lawn, it was exhausting.

Finally, after what felt like forever, school was over. Slowly, Harry gathered his belongings and placed them into his ratty old knapsack. He moved with the crowd outside the school. Harry spotted Aunt Petunia picking up Dudley in the parking lot and quickly avoided being seen by them. Aunt Petunia refused to drive him home- she wouldn't let the freak in her car unless it was absolutely necessary.

So Harry was forced to walk the two miles back to Privet Drive.

Harry didn't mind the walk, he never minded anything that let him be out of that house for a little bit longer. By the time Harry got home, his Aunt's car was already in the driveway.

Quietly, he opened the front door and slipped inside the house. He quickly put his knapsack in his cupboard before going to his Aunt who was lounging in the kitchen.

"Your list is on the counter. These floors better be clean enough to eat off of before Vernon gets home or there'll be no dinner tonight!" Aunt Petunia screeched at him, without looking away from the window she was peering out of. His Aunt loved knowing what her neighbors were doing, she lived off of gossip.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." The boy answered politely. He grabbed the list before quietly sighing. It looked like it was going to be a long night tonight, and he also had a bunch of school work to do.

But, Harry hated that it was almost summer time. Only another month before school was out, and he was silently dreading the date. With school out he would spend all his time at the Dursleys, with no break and little hope for food. He only ever ate regularly at lunch everyday at school. Usually he would get some breakfast, but it was rare for him to do his chores good enough in order to get dinner. Most nights he was forced to cook the meal, then listen to them eat it from inside of his cupboard. It was especially bad during the summer when the Dursleys didn't have to worry about teachers noticing and asking questions.

Not that they did anymore. His Aunt and Uncle had told the school that he picked fights and was a nasty boy that got into trouble often. From then on the school never wondered about any of the bruises or discolorations sometimes spotted on him.

His Aunt had told his neighbors the same. But of course she added in how she had taken in her poor nephew out of the goodness of her heart. And the horrid trouble that he has caused her family by being such a nuisance and getting into fights. No one in the neighborhood thought to questioned the lies and now didn't wonder where all his bruises come from. He must just be especially troublesome during the summer.

Harry got right to work on the list of chores. It was long and would take Harry most of the night to complete. His Aunt liked to keep him busy so that he wouldn't be able to get into trouble or do anything freaky. The house was already spotless- his Aunt hated for anything to be dirty.

Eventually Harry started to make dinner and was sorely tempted to try and sneak some food. His stomach was grumbling loudly and making its need known. But, he didn't dare. The last time he attempted to sneak some food he was punished severely for it- and he didn't want to repeat it.

At six his Uncle got home and the boy automatically tensed. His Uncle didn't seem to be in a bad mood, but that could change quickly. The table was set, and dinner was almost ready to be served. All of the chores his Aunt wanted done before dinner were finished and while Harry didn't want to hope for dinner, he thought he might be able to get some tonight.

Dinner went as usual in the Dursley household. Harry served everyone food, and received the much anticipated nod that he was allowed to join them. The boy waited until everyone else filled their plates before taking as much food as he dared- which wasn't much. His Uncle always got mad if he ate too much, he had to be careful.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon had three helpings each before Harry cleared the table and brought out dessert. Harry was never allowed to have dessert. He was excused to go finish his chores and he quickly left to go garden and tend to the lawn. That was one of his favorite chores. He loved being outside, and he seemed to have a gift with flowers. They always bloomed for him.

When it was too dark for him to work anymore, and he had gotten most of the gardening done. Harry was called back inside by his Aunt.

"Boy! Get in here and shower! You reek."

"I'm coming, Aunt Petunia." He replied.

While Harry was on his way to the back door, he glanced up at the moon. It was a clear night, and the moon was full and bright. For just a moment he wished he could reach out and touch the moon. He wondered what it would feel like to fly. He would take to the sky and never come back, he would finally be free. With a wistful smile, Harry turned around and walked right back into the house he hated more than anything else. What he would give to fly.

The next day dawned bright and early for Harry.

Aunt Petunia would wake up an hour or so before her husband, time that she used to prepare herself for the day. Not that it helped her much, in Harry's opinion. The heavy makeup she wore did nothing to stop her face from looking so horse like and her dresses just seemed to accentuate her long neck. But, the boy never dared to voice these thoughts to her. Shortly after that though, she would bang on the door to Harry's cupboard.

"Up! Get up, Boy! And don't you dare burn the bacon again." She screeched while unlocking the door.

Harry nodded blandly, searching out some decent clothes in the darkness of the cupboard. His Uncle refused to put in a light, saying that he wouldn't waste money on the freak. Most of Harry's clothes used to belong to Dudley, and were only passed on to him when they were too old and worn for Dudley to wear anymore. The dwarfed his small frame, and many of them had holes and tears in them.

Opening the door to the cupboard, quietly Harry moved to the kitchen and started making breakfast. His moves were practiced and efficient.

Aunt Petunia was sitting at the table watching the telly and drinking her morning tea. She didn't glance at him as he worked. He greatly preferred it that way.

Eventually, his Aunt left the kitchen to go try and wake up Dudley again. She usually had to wake his cousin several times before he actually got up. He could make out his Aunt's high pitched voice as she pleaded with her son to wake up. Finally, bribing him with breakfast and a promise to visit the ice cream shop after school.

His cousin Dudley was a very large boy, and even though he was the same age as Harry, Dudley was as least 3 times bigger than him. He had wispy blonde hair, and two double chins. It was no wonder that Dudley's old clothes were practically falling off of Harry. The only way Harry managed to keep the pants up was to use some old rope he found in the shed as a belt. It didn't look good, but at least he didn't have to worry about his pants falling down all the time like he did before.

When his Aunt came down, she barked out at Harry, "Dudley wants his eggs over easy this morning." Harry nodded before starting to make the eggs, and set the toaster.

He set the table for three, and poured out drinks for his Uncle and Cousin before going back to check on the bacon. Harry couldn't risk burning it again. Subconsciously, Harry rubbed at a dark bruise on his arm.

His body naturally tensed when Uncle Vernon came into the kitchen. Harry hunched a little, and tried his best to blend into the background and be unseen. His Uncle didn't say anything to him, only grumbled a little to his wife about the news.

Quietly he placed the finished breakfast on the table, before cleaning up the kitchen. Washing the dishes was a mindless task, and his mind usually wandered while doing it.

Harry had a test today in English. It was one of his favorite classes, reading was something that came naturally to Harry and he was very good at it. Whenever his class went to the library at school he usually checked out as many books as he could. He enjoyed fantasy books the most, Harry spent most of his time daydreaming about having epic adventures saving the world like the people did in his books. It was fun and a way to forget about the Dursleys for a little bit.

Of course, he would have to fail his test today. Dudley was hopeless at English, and if he didn't want to be punished by Uncle Vernon he had to be hopeless too. Unconsciously, Harry sighed at the thought. He didn't like having to fail all of his classes.

"Boy!" His Uncle thundered. "Is something wrong?"

Quickly Harry, shook his head no. But, it was too late. His Uncle was already turning red in the face, and starting to pant heavily. A sure sign of his anger.

"I did- didn't mean to-" Harry was cut off by his Uncle wrapping his large meaty hand around his arm. Harry tried not to whimper at the pain. Uncle Vernon just got more upset if he voiced his pain.

"Of course, you didn't mean to. You never mean to do anything!" Uncle Vernon started to shake him roughly. "You ungrateful boy! We have provided everything for you! Food and clothing, and all we ask in return is for you to not be a lazy ingrate!"

Smack! Harry's head whipped to the side with the force of his Uncle's blow. "Vernon!" Petunia chastised. "Someone might see."

"No one cares, Pet." Vernon gruffly argued.

"Of course, no one cares about the boy. But, we still need to be careful. One of his teachers or the neighbors might become suspicious, they wouldn't understand." Petunia simpered.

Slowly his Uncle Vernon calmed down, the man then shoved Harry into the corner of the counter while muttering under his breath about 'ungrateful freaks.'

Harry rubbed his back where it hit the counter. It stung, but not nearly as much as his face did.

As his cousin Dudley finally entered the kitchen, Aunt Petunia screeched at the boy to go get cleaned up before school.

Nodding, Harry quickly walked to the bathroom upstairs. Staring at himself in the mirror, Harry examined his face for damage. It wasn't too bad, just a slowly darkening mark on his cheek. It could've been much worse. What was he thinking, sighing like that? Uncle Vernon always took offense to things like that, anything that might make it seem like Harry was ungrateful for being taken in by the Dursleys.

Harry quickly washed his face, and attempted to straighten up his untidy hair- but his hair was as hopeless as always. Glancing at the clock in the bathroom, Harry knew he had to move quickly if he didn't want to be late to school. It was a long walk and he had to get going, his teacher would be mad if he was late again. He would most likely get a detention, and he didn't even want to think about what his Uncle would do to him. In his experience it was best not to think about it.

The morning was chilly, and his thin t-shirt did little to protect him from the cold air. He walked briskly, but even then he barely made it to class on time. Luckily for once, he was able to slip into the classroom without anyone noticing.

He listened carefully to his teachers all morning. But especially he listened to his maths teacher, Mr. Baker. Harry liked Mr. Baker, he was one of his favorite teachers so far. Mr. Baker had a wicked sense of humor, yet he obviously cared about all of his students and tried to get everyone to succeed. He had even held back Harry several times after class to talk about his school work, and the various ways that Harry could get help in order to do better in his class. Even going so far as to offer after school tutoring.

Harry knew he could never accept any of his teacher's offers, but it felt nice to be offered them anyway.

When the bell for lunch came, Harry got up to leave with the rest of the class. Before he could go anywhere though, he was stopped.

"Mr. Potter, could I speak to you for a moment?" Mr. Baker called out.

"Oooooooooooh, Potty's in trouble!" Some boy shouted in the crowd and everyone laughed. Harry just tried to ignore it.

They waited for everyone to be gone, before Harry said, "Yes, sir?"

"Mr. Potter, I'm concerned about that mark on your forehead, what happened?" Mr. Baker questioned.

"Oh this? Sir." Harry pointed up to his head in a careless gesture, trying to ignore the racing of his heart. "This is nothing, I got it this morning when I tripped over a stick on my walk to school." Harry laughed like he was making fun of his own clumsiness.

Mr. Baker narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure, Harry? You know you can tell me anything." Harry just nodded.

Mr. Baker scrutinized the boy. "What happened to your arm then, don't tell me you got that tripping too?"

Harry gulped. His mind racing. "No, umm- I was- I was running through the kitchen, but my Aunt had just mopped the floors and I didn't know that, and as I started to fall my Uncle grabbed my arm to save me. That's all that happened, sir."

His teacher allowed some of his skepticism to shine through on his face. "Uh huh, well Harry, if you're sure you have nothing that you want to talk to me about…" He waited a second for Harry to speak. "Then I guess you are free to go to lunch."

Harry nodded to his teacher, and tried not to sigh in relief when he was allowed to go. That was way too close. No one could ever figure out what his Uncle did to him, it would just result in a lot of trouble- for him.

Harry ate his usual meagre lunch in the corner of the cafeteria before hurrying outside to his hiding place. He did not want to get caught by Dudley and his gang today. It was already turning into a bad enough day as it was.

The boy tried not to think too much on what his teacher had said to him. But, the words kept floating back to him in his head. 'You can tell me anything' he said… Did Mr. Baker know? It was impossible to tell. Maybe he really was just concerned, maybe Mr. Baker was worried that Harry was being bullied or something, that was very likely. In fact, the more that Harry thought about it, the more he believed that Mr. Baker was probably just worried about Harry getting beat up at school. There was absolutely no way that he could know anything about went on at home. Besides that was private, and none of his business.

The rest of the day flew by, and before Harry was ready for it he was already on his way back home. He tried to stretch out the walk as long as possible, but he knew his Aunt would just get mad if he was home too late. It seemed like everything he did lately got some person or another mad at him in some way.

The house was deserted when he got, he had forgotten that his Aunt was going to take Dudley to get ice cream after school. It was very rare for Harry to be home alone, the Dursleys rarely trusted him to be in their home with no one there. Usually he was sent to stay with Mrs. Figg, a neighbor with a million cats, and he spent the whole time looking at pictures of them all.

Harry went to the kitchen to see if there was a list of chores for him to accomplish. There wasn't. Strange, he thought. They never forget to give him chores to do. Harry tried not of all of the bad things that could happen and instead decided to do his homework for once.

He didn't have very much, but it felt nice to be able to do it outside of his cupboard and with actual light to see with.

By the time he was done, his Aunt should've been home already. She wasn't. Harry didn't know what to do… His Aunt didn't leave any work for him to do, but he knew he would be in trouble if he wasn't working when she got home.

Finally, he decided to just go work in the garden until they got home. Despite being forced to work in the garden, Harry grew to deeply love tending to plants and watching them grow and bloom. It was easily his favorite chore.

It was a beautiful spring day, with just a slight breeze and enough sun so that Harry didn't cold working outside. He kept working for the next couple of hours, until he couldn't ignore that none of the Dursleys were home yet when they should have been home hours ago.

It was worrying. Did they abandon him? Harry didn't like his relatives, but as they constantly reminded him- they were all he had. If they just left him, what would happen to him? Most likely he'd be forced to go to one of the orphanages his Uncle was always threatening to send him to… He had heard so many horror tales about them that Harry was terrified of ever going to one.

Finally, it became too dark to work anymore. The sun had set, and Harry's stomach was growling fiercely. Harry was used to not getting dinner, but that didn't make the hunger pains ache any less. Harry gave up on gardening for the night, and after putting all the tools in the shed, made his way to the kitchen.

After making absolutely sure that there were no Dursleys anywhere in the house or nearby vicinity, Harry opened the fridge. He only took leftovers, and only a little bit. Hopefully enough to tide him over, but not enough for anyone to know he took some. It was a fine line that he had to walk, but Harry believed he managed it okay.

Harry ate quickly, praying the whole time that his relatives would stay away until he was finished. They had this nasty habit of always catching Harry when he was doing something wrong. It was horrible.

Glancing at the clock, Harry realized just how late it was. They should be home by now. Something was wrong, and Harry had no idea what to do. Harry bit his lip with indecision. Deciding that waiting and acting like nothing was wrong would be the best idea, Harry went through his usual nightly routine.

He took a shower, although it was much longer than his usual showers were. The Dursleys would bang on the bathroom door whenever he went over five minutes, so Harry made full use of his opportunity to indulge himself. Who knew when it would happen again.

Afterwards, he crept downstairs into his cupboard. If the Dursleys came home in the middle of the night and he wasn't there… the punishment would be severe.

His cupboard was small and dark. Just like always.

Harry slept on an old mattress pad. It smelled slightly like dog and was worn through in several places, but it was better than sleeping on the ground. There was a small vent that provided air ventilation, even though it was usually closed. There were two shelves on the wall, where he kept his clothes and random things he's gathered throughout the years that Dudley has either thrown away or broken. Harry also had an old blanket that did little to prevent the chill during the winter, but provided nice cushion during the summer heat.

His cupboard wasn't much, but at least it was his.

Harry was used to spending long periods of time in the confined space. At least he wasn't claustrophobic. His Uncle would lock him into the tiny room when there was company over, or if he was being punished for some reason or another. After the blue-hair incident Harry wasn't allowed to leave the cupboard except for bathroom breaks for the entire week that he was suspended. It was pretty miserable.

Whenever something weird or strange happened to Harry, long periods of time in the cupboard was usually the better end of the punishment. His Uncle despised anything that wasn't 'normal'. And Harry definitely wasn't normal.

Harry didn't know why, but sometimes things just happened to him. All he wanted to do was to blend in, to not stand out anymore than he already did. But, then something impossible would happen to him. For instance, the blue-hair incident.

It was two years ago, and Harry had had a truly awful teacher. Mrs. Maurer had absolutely hated Harry, more deeply than any other teacher ever has before. Harry believed that it had something to do with the fact that Mrs. Maurer was a good friend of his Aunt, and his Aunt had constantly told her lies about him.

But, one day Harry had been late to school because it had been storming and the wind was blowing strongly at him. He ended up being 20 minutes late for class, and had arrived completely soaked, and he had forgotten his homework at the Dursleys. It was safe to say that she had been furious.

Mrs. Maurer had started yelling at Harry and refused the let the boy explain himself. Harry had been so embarrassed, he greatly disliked attention and everyone in the class had been staring and laughing at him. He just wanted her to stop.

He kept his eyes lowered. Hoping that maybe she would take it as his submission and stop yelling at him. When all the sudden everyone in the class burst out into laughter causing Harry to look up. He paled in horror and disbelief.

Mrs. Maurer's hair had turned blue! It was completely crazy, yet the evidence was right in front of his eyes.

Mrs. Maurer heard everyone laughing, and looked questioningly at a girl in the front row. "What is the meaning of this?" She demanded.

"Your hair, ma'am." The girl choked out.

"What about my hair?" His teacher shrieked while putting a hand up to her head.

A boy in the back row answered her. "It's blue!"

"What?" Confusion marred her face. Finally she grabbed her purse and searched for a compact mirror. Her face paled when she saw her hair. She glanced around the room in fury.

Everyone was laughing, except for Harry who was looking at her while pale and trembling. Immediately she deemed him the guilty party and dragged Harry off to the principal's office. Harry had a stern lecture from the man, and Uncle Vernon was called to pick him up.

His Uncle had been so furious, that his face turned a horrid shade of purple. Harry was terrified. After the punishment he had received, he was glad to be able to spend the next week in the cupboard. It was better being in there than outside with his Uncle. Even if he hadn't been suspended for the week, his Aunt never would have let him go back to school. They never did when he looked so bad, they didn't want any suspicion to be cast onto the family.

When he did finally go back to school, Harry was more ostracized than normal. Dudley had spread horrible rumors about his freakishness, and now no one would even talk to him. People avoided him whenever he went somewhere.

Harry had hated it. He didn't like all the attention that people were giving him, it was much harder to blend in when everyone was afraid of him. People notice things that they're afraid of.

Eventually, everyone calmed down though. No one would talk to him anymore, but he wasn't as openly feared by the school. Things went back to normal, what with him being ignored and skating by unnoticed. In a weird way, for Harry, ignorance really was bliss. At least it was better than being acknowledged.

But, his Aunt and Uncle never forgot the incident. After that they muttered more and more about his freakishness, and started to talk about 'his kind' when referring to Harry. Harry had no idea what they were talking about, he didn't have a kind…

His Uncle had been much worse to him since then. Before he used to just yank him around a bit, and yell at him a lot. Afterwards, his Uncle became much more violent and physical. It frightened Harry.

His Aunt did nothing about her husband's behavior. If anything, she approved of it. Except for when it was visible. His Aunt was all about appearances.

Dudley was ignorant to the worst of it. His parents tried their best to shield him from the 'freak', but he did catch some of it. He encouraged his Dad on most of the time, and did his best to emulate his father with his gang.

Since then, Harry had done several more freakish things.

Once when his Aunt had gotten sick of his unruly hair, she had hacked it all off. Harry had spent all night dreading what everyone would say about it tomorrow at school. He would never blend in with such a horrible hair style. But, when he woke up his hair had grown back- all of it. It was like his hair had never been cut off in the first place.

His Uncle had been furious at him for this display of freakishness. It didn't help when Harry had said that he didn't do anything, that it just happened! If anything that had just made his Uncle madder.

Or another time, Harry had been running from Dudley's gang who had discovered his latest hiding place. Harry was terrified of being caught by them- he had enough bruises already. Even though he was running as fast as he could away from them, he knew that it wouldn't be good enough. One of them was really fast, the fastest player on the football team. Harry knew that he would catch him. He was running by the back of the school when he wished that they wouldn't be able to catch him.

The next thing he knew, Harry was on the roof of the school! He had no idea how he had gotten there, it was like magic! The gang never did find him. But, eventually a school janitor had to get a ladder so that Harry could get down from the roof, his Uncle had again been called and Harry had been punished again.

Harry tried really hard not to do anything freakish… he just couldn't help it. The weird things just seemed to happen naturally.

As Harry laid in the dark he prayed that the Dursleys would never return. That they would just leave him alone forever. And that instead of being sent to an orphanage, some distant relative would come to take him in. That they would go and live far away, and that Harry would never have to see the Dursleys ever again. It was a nice dream, and Harry fell asleep with a smile on his face.

A slamming door woke Harry from sleep.

He jolted awake, his heart pounding. Harry didn't move. He stayed completely still in the darkness of his little cupboard.

"Boy!" A loud voice grumbled. "Get out here!" Harry's heart sank when he heard his Uncle's voice. The man sounded drunk and angry.

With no choice, Harry left the cupboard. His Uncle was stumbling towards him with murder in his eyes. "You!" He thundered. Stepping closer and closer to Harry. The boy could smell the booze from where he was standing. His heart pounded with fear.

"You did this!" Red faced, Vernon advanced on Harry and grabbed his arms tightly. Harry cringed away, and tried to hold back a whimper at the pain.

Vernon jabbed a finger at Harry's chest. "This is all yourrr fault!" The man slurred.

"Wha- What did I do?" Harry questioned.

"You and your kind did thiss!" Uncle Vernon hissed in the boy's face. He yanked Harry's arms behind his back in a tight grip.

Fear flooded through Harry. What would his Uncle do? He hadn't done anything, but the man obviously didn't believe that.

"I did- didn't do anything!" Harry choked out.

"Don't lie, boy!" Vernon screamed. "I know that it was you!" The large man gripped Harry's arm tighter behind the boy's back. Before flinging the boy away in disgust.

Harry landed on his arm with a loud crack! Harry gasped. Pain like he had never felt before burst through his arm.

Vernon seemed to realize what he had done. The man stilled, but his face was still red with his fury.

"That was your own fault, boy!" Vernon roared. "Go! Get out of my sight!"

Harry stumbled backwards. He practically fell into his cupboard. Then his Uncle was there.

"You will pay for what you have done!" The man yelled before slamming the door closed. Harry could hear the click of the locks being bolted shut.

Alone in the dark, his arm hurt worse than before. It was painfully throbbing with every beat of his heart. Harry held it tenderly to his chest, in an attempt to shelter it.

He gently probed his arm with his left hand, a sharp throb of pain burst through what seemed like the entire right side of his body. Harry feared that his Uncle had broken his right arm.

Vernon had never broken anything before. At least nothing of importance. Harry thinks that one time his Uncle broke a toe or something, but that wasn't too bad. But, if his right arm was broken? That would be terrible. He could barely move the arm at all without experiencing horrible pain. How would he ever get his chores done with a broken arm? What would he do?

Harry had never seen his Uncle so mad at him before. He had no idea what the man was so angry about, though. Harry didn't do anything. But, whatever it was that his Uncle was mad about must have been terrible.

That brought another question to mind. Where was his Aunt and Cousin? Why didn't they come home with Vernon? Did something happen to them? Was that why his Uncle was so upset?

Harry had no idea, but these thoughts kept circling around his head. All he wanted to do was sleep, but his throbbing arm wouldn't let him. He had never experienced pain so sharp before, but he didn't dare make a sound. That would only make it worse.

So, the boy just hunkered down in his cupboard. He tried to hold the broken appendage tight to his body and he shielded it with his other arm. It would have to do for now, maybe he could do something about it in the morning.

The boy had slept restlessly for the rest of the night. He always slept lightly, but that night was worse than usual. His fear of his Uncle coming back haunting his dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry was having a horrible summer so far.

Currently, he was outside trying to get the mower to work. For some reason, no matter how hard he pulled on the starter, the stupid thing just wouldn't catch! It was enough to frustrate anyone. But, Harry who had been on edge for weeks, was about ready to start throwing things.

He had to calm down. Slowly, Harry took two deep breaths.

Getting angry wouldn't change anything. He knew that. But it didn't make the anger burning through his system feel any less real. What Harry really wanted was a chance to just scream out about the unfairness of it all- to release everything that has been building up inside of him over the past few weeks. But, he knew that unless he went somewhere far away, he would never get the opportunity. He would just have to deal with it.

Sighing, Harry attempted to start the mower again. It was an incredibly hot summer day out, and honestly all Harry wanted to do was to finish the yardwork so that he could go inside where at least it was air conditioned. Unfortunately for him, though, the Dursleys had decided that today would be the perfect day to get every single one of the outside chores done. If he was lucky, he would be done by dinnertime. If he was lucky.

Thankfully, the mower started after a little more tinkering and Harry didn't have to spend a lot of time fixing it.

Mowing the lawn was something Harry could have done with his eyes closed, he had done it so many times before that it was habitual. The sun was pelting down hard on the boy and very quickly Harry was sweating profusely.

Thankfully, his Uncle was at work right now, so he wouldn't have to worry about him for several more hours. While his Aunt was in the air-conditioned house, most likely staring out the window at the neighbors trying to see something worth gossiping about.

Harry's arm twinged everytime he moved it the wrong way. It was covered in a white plaster cast, and it sent sharp spikes of pain through his body often. It made doing his chores much more difficult. But, at least he was out of school now, it had been horrible trying to write with his left hand. His handwriting had been barely legible.

The cast was a vicious reminder of that dreadful night. Harry had nightmares about the look in his Uncle's eyes.

Ever since that night when his Uncle had come home drunk, Harry had been avoiding the man as much as possible. He tried to blend into the background whenever he entered his room. Harry had even taken to chanting over and over in his mind, 'Don't notice me, No one can see me.' And sometimes he swore that his Uncle would look right at him, but his eyes would skim over Harry, like he couldn't even see him.

It didn't always work, of course. But, it was a definite improvement.

Aunt Petunia and Dudley had come home the next morning after 'the incident' as Harry had dubbed it in his mind. Apparently, on their way home from the ice cream shoppe they had gotten into a car accident. An owl had swooped down in front of their car, startling Petunia so badly that she had swerved the car right into a tree.

They didn't get too badly injured, with Dudley taking the brunt of the accident. His Cousin had broken a rib and had a mild concussion that required him to spend the night at the hospital being observed just as a precaution. Meanwhile, his Aunt received a sprained wrist, and they both were covered in some pretty nasty bruises.

Of course, Vernon had immediately rushed to the hospital once Petunia had called him with the news. And Dudley had made sure to appear to be much worse off than he had been, it was a great opportunity for presents!

Vernon had been enraged after hearing about the owl that had caused his wife's accident. His mind instantly jumping to those freaks that were the cause of all of his problems. He just knew that it was their doing!

The large man had spent a couple hours at the hospital with his wife and child, before being informed that visiting hours were over. Petunia was allowed to stay due to being injured in the accident herself, but Vernon had to leave for the night.

As Vernon left the hospital, he vowed to himself that the freaks would pay for the harm they had caused his family!

He drove like a madman, in a furious rage to punish the freak that did this! But, a flashing red sign had caught his attention. Vernon decided that he definitely needed a drink or two to handle the stress of the day. Making a split second decision the man pulled over into the bar that advertised half-priced drinks on Tuesdays.

Vernon spent the next two hours there, getting drunker and drunker. As the alcohol clouded his brain, the man got more and more enraged. Everything was the freak's fault! All of his problems could be traced back to that brat.

Suddenly, with a fierce determination the man got up from the bar and moved to his car, ignoring the bartender's calls. Vernon stumbled his way to his vehicle, and started on his way home. He drove like the drunk man he obviously was, and it was only due to luck or a miracle that he wasn't pulled over or in an accident himself.

The rage he had been feeling ever since learning about what happened to Petunia and Dudley leapt to the forefront of his mind as he lurched up the steps on Number 4 Privet Drive. He slammed the door open, while screaming out, "Boy! Get out here!"

What happened next was all a blur to the large man, he just was consumed with an overwhelming rage and he just knew that everything was the freak's fault. That he did this to him and his family.

Then Vernon heard the snap.

Instantly, he realized what he had done. The man stilled and ordered the boy out of his sight. He locked the boy into his room and staggered up the stairs. Petunia and Dudley would be home in the morning, everything would be clearer when they were home.

The next morning, Harry had been woken when Petunia and Dudley came home. If the slamming door hadn't woken him, then his Aunt screeching about her 'poor Diddykins' most certainly would have. The next thing Harry was aware of, was the staggering amount of pain emanating from his right arm. The pain drove any and all questions about the where his Aunt and Cousin had been from his mind.

Every heartbeat sent another thud of pain burning throughout his body. Harry clutched his arm tight to his chest and wondered how he would ever get through the day with this kind of pain attacking him.

His Uncle had stumbled down the stairs incredibly hungover when his Aunt was still cooing over Dudley in the hallway.

After some gruff words from Vernon, his Aunt remembered to release him from the cupboard so that Harry could start breakfast.

"Boy!" She shrieked as she rapped on the door. "My precious Diddykins needs his bacon!" She unlocked the door, before rushing back to her son.

Harry watched as she cooed all over the boy, who was looking at her with a pitiful expression before saying, "Mummy, I need sausage with my breakfast too."

"Boy! You heard him, get to work!" His Aunt snapped at Harry, while Dudley flashed him a smug expression.

Harry cradled his arm as he went into the kitchen. He had tensed when he heard his Uncle coming down the stairs earlier, and Harry didn't relax even when in the relative safety of the kitchen. Hopefully as long as he didn't ruin breakfast, no one was likely to get too upset with him.

But, Harry found that it was much more difficult to cook one armed. He was right-handed so everything felt incredibly awkward with his left hand. Harry tried to use his right arm at one point and was rewarded with a fierce pang of pain.

It was difficult for Harry to focus on cooking when his arm felt like it was on fire. What the boy really wanted was an ice pack or even just an ice cube. Anything really.

Through the doors of the kitchen, Harry could hear his relatives move into the sitting room. His Aunt was still pampering Dudley, while he was soaking up the extra attention he was receiving from his parents. Harry just knew that Dudley was going to use this situation to his advantage- probably he was going to extort several presents from his parents to help 'ease his pain'.

Harry still had no idea what had happened to Petunia and Dudley, but obviously it wasn't too serious since they were already home again. But, he did notice some bandages on both of them, and several new bruises. He guessed that they had been in some type of accident or something. He wasn't too concerned about it right now.

All Harry could worry about was trying to not burn breakfast while cooking with only one hand.

It was incredibly difficult, but the boy managed to get a decent meal out on the table, most likely due to his many years of practice. Today was a Saturday, so Harry didn't have to go to school. Harry felt disappointed over this. Going to school meant that he could escape the Dursleys- especially Uncle Vernon for the day. Also, he was almost guaranteed to not be fed this weekend. Not with the way his Uncle was acting.

Cradling his arm, Harry walked to the sitting room to inform his relatives that breakfast was ready. His Aunt was still cooing over Dudley, while Vernon was grumbling about freaks under his breath. Harry didn't know what to expect from the man, and was preparing for the worst.

"Excuse me?" He said politely.

"What?" His Aunt snapped. She looked frustrated at being called away from Dudley.

"Breakfast is done." Harry answered while looking at the ground.

His Aunt made a noise of agreement, and told Harry to get started on his chores for the day. Harry nodded and turned to start working while internally sighing.

"Boy!" His Aunt shrieked. Harry turned around and looked at her questioningly.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia?"

"What's wrong with your arm?" Her voice was sharp. Shocked, Harry looked up at her face. He could make out the barest hint of worry in her eyes. It was gone before he could make sure, though.

Harry didn't know what to say. He glanced over at Uncle Vernon, hoping he might have the answers. The man was looking at him warningly. His eyes had the same look as last night. Harry knew then what he had to say.

"N-nothing. I fell down the stairs yesterday, and I landed on it wrong. I'm fine." He lied.

His Aunt gazed at him with sharp eyes, trying to discern the truth. Finally, she nodded and Harry was free to go start on his chores.

Harry spent all weekend in pain. His arm seemed to hurt worse with every passing minute. He kept it tight to his chest at all times, and tried not to move it. But, that didn't do anything to make it feel better. After the first day, Harry wrapped it up in one of his old shirts, but that didn't do much. It was red and swollen and Harry could barely move his fingers. He was getting really worried.

Harry was sorely tempted to nick some pain medicine from the cabinet. But he was afraid that he would be caught by his Uncle and punished even worse.

It took Harry much longer to complete his chores one handed. While scrubbing the kitchen floor, he had found out what happened to Aunt Petunia and Dudley. Harry had no idea why his Uncle would blame him for that though. How could he possibly have anything to do with an owl flying into their car? It was just some random thing that had nothing do with Harry. But, that didn't stop Uncle Vernon from casting all blame onto Harry though.

The man had taken to glaring at Harry whenever they were in the same room together. He still hadn't spoken a word to him since that night. But, he did shove and push Harry around whenever the opportunity arose. Harry would try to make himself invisible, but that only worked some of the time. It was almost impossible to blend in when someone was actively searching him out. But, that didn't stop Harry from trying.

Dudley had been absolutely unbearable since the accident. He would call out to Harry all the time to get him to do things for him, with the excuse that he was too injured to do it himself. All the time that Harry didn't spend on his chores was spent doing stupid tasks for his Cousin.

It greatly annoyed Harry, but the boy couldn't do anything about it. It would just make his Uncle even madder at him. And Harry didn't want to do anything to provoke the man.

His Aunt wouldn't stop cooing and coddling Dudley. And anything that she wouldn't do for him, Dudley just got Harry to do for him. Always with a smug look in his eyes.

But, Harry noticed that his Aunt would cast him suspicious glances, more so than usual. And she would eye his arm while looking warily between Harry and her husband. She didn't say anything, but she did let Harry eat dinner with them both weekend nights. Which Harry was greatly surprised by, but didn't comment on. He knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Thankfully, Harry had managed to finish all of his homework on Friday before everything happened. He didn't have a single opportunity to do it that weekend. What with doing all of his chores one handed, running errands for Dudley, and avoiding Uncle Vernon. He didn't have a spare second to himself.

Monday morning dawned bright and early for Harry. But, the day brought with it a fresh wave of pain. Harry was concerned because the pain hadn't lessened any since Friday- if anything it had gotten worse.

Harry was cooking the bacon when his Uncle entered the kitchen. Immediately the boy tensed, and tried to track his Uncle's movements with his eyes while trying not to be noticed. The larger man didn't say anything to him, just grunted to his wife good morning.

It seemed to Harry that he held his breath throughout all of breakfast and cleaning the dishes. He wasn't allowed to eat any of it, but that was okay with him. He would at least get lunch at school today.

Harry was able to escape the house without comment, having showered the night before as usual. The walk to school was just as long as always, but Harry relished the opportunity to spend time outside without the Dursleys around.

The bell was ringing when Harry slipped into his class- he just made it without being late. Harry guessed that he must have walked slower than usual that morning. He slung his worn backpack on the chair of his desk after getting his books from it, and settled in for a very long day.

It was very hard to focus on what his teachers were saying while his arm was throbbing so painfully. Harry tried to block it out, and was slightly successful, but was still missing most of what his teachers were saying.

When it was time for Harry to go to Mr. Baker's room for Maths, Harry's mind immediately went back to what the man had said to him last week. Could Harry tell him about what had happened? Harry discarded the idea immediately. It would do no good.

Once several years ago, Harry had told a teacher about what was happening at the Dursleys and they didn't believe him. In fact, they had even called the Dursleys and told them about the horrible things that Harry was saying about them. It was needless to say that he had been punished severely, and knew that he couldn't ever tell anyone about 'private family matters ever again.

Harry entered the classroom and did his best to keep his head down and avoid being noticed. In his opinion, no attention was the best kind of attention. He made it through the entire lesson without being called on to his stark relief. It wasn't until the end of the class, when he was leaving did Mr. Baker wave him over to his desk.

Dread filled Harry, as he frantically searched his mind for what to say. When everyone was gone, Mr. Baker cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Harry's arm, which Harry had been cradling to his chest.

"Mr. Potter-" Mr. Baker paused. "Harry." He said before continuing. "I'm really worried about you." He said softly. Harry didn't dare look at his face. "Please, just let me help you."

A moment passed in silence. Harry glanced up at his teacher. The man was just staring at Harry intently, waiting for him to say something. When it became clear that Harry wasn't going to speak, the man continued. "I can't do anything, unless you tell me what is going on. I need your help, in order to help you."

Another moment passed in silence. Harry didn't know what to do. Mr. Baker seemed sincere, but that didn't mean anything. The man could easily be lying or pretending to care.

"I-" Harry stopped. Uncertainty flooded his mind.

"Yes?" Mr. Baker had a soft and reassuring look on his face. "You can tell me anything." The man promised.

"I'm fine." Harry finally stated. At Mr. Baker's dubious look, he added. "Really, I'm perfectly fine. There's nothing wrong." Harry nodded for emphasis.

Mr. Baker looked disappointed. Harry tried not to squirm at the look, but he felt bad for making his favorite teacher disappointed in him.

After another long pause, where the teacher obviously hoped that Harry would change his mind, Mr. Baker sighed in defeat. "Alright, then." Harry took that as his dismissal and turned to go. "Wait, Mr. Potter?"

What could he still want? Harry wondered. "Yes, sir?" He replied politely.

Mr. Baker stood up. "Please come with me." He stated before moving towards the exit of the room. Confused, Harry followed.

The man led him to the opposite side of the school- to a room that Harry knew well. The school's Nurse's office. Harry had spent a lot of time in here because of Dudley and his gang. Harry felt like the school Nurse saw him more than anyone else.

He greatly liked the woman, she was very young and pretty. And even though her questions sometimes made him feel very uncomfortable because they would hit a little too close to home, overall he liked her warm and caring manner. But, she didn't let anyone misbehave in her presence. When angered, the woman could be fierce.

"Ahh, Robert, what brings you here this fine day?" The Nurse greeted when she saw Mr. Baker. Her voice was very flirtatious. She didn't see Harry who was following behind him closely.

"Actually, Debbie, I've brought someone for you to look at for me." He said while gesturing to Harry.

The Nurse just nodded as though she had been expecting this, without seeming to feel the least bit embarrassed for being caught flirting in front of a student. "Well, hello there, Mr. Potter. And how are you feeling today?" She asked as she motioned for him to get up onto the examining table.

With extreme wariness, Harry got up onto the table like she said to. "I'm fine." He answered softly.

Mr. Baker snorted. "Sure he is." He replied, before gesturing to Harry's arm. "Just take a look at that arm for me, if you would." He said the Nurse.

She narrowed her eyes at Harry before asking him if it was alright for her to examine his arm. Harry really didn't want her to, but saw no way of getting out of it. It would be highly suspicious if he refused. Slowly, Harry nodded and held out his right arm to her.

The Nurse took it gently, before carefully unwrapping the home made bandage Harry had wrapped around it using one of his old shirts. She gasped when it was uncovered. Gingerly she touched the swollen appendage. Harry tried to hold back a wince, but was unsuccessful. She murmured an apology as she thoroughly examined his arm.

She took careful note of when Harry winced, or when a flash of pain shot across his features. Finally, she was done and motioned to Mr. Baker who had watched the whole thing in one of the chairs next to the examination table. They went out into the hallway where Harry could just barely see them.

Harry couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was obvious neither of them were happy. The Nurse was furiously talking to Mr. Baker and he could see anger and frustration on both of their faces. This wasn't good. Finally, they came back.

"Harry." The Nurse said to him softly. Harry glanced up at her. "I believe that your arm is broken. It's going to need to be treated in a hospital, for now I am going to put it in a splint in order to keep it stable. Okay?"

Harry nodded slightly.

The Nurse started bustling around her office getting everything that she would need. Meanwhile, Mr. Baker who still looked like he was barely holding back his anger started walking towards Harry.

Harry flinched. Mr. Baker paused abruptly. Harry immediately felt silly for his behavior. He knew that his teacher would never hurt him in public like this. He flushed bright red in embarrassment.

Mr. Baker seemed to get a hold of his temper then, a strange look passing over his face. Finally, the man sighed before slowly moving closer to Harry.

He didn't say anything while the Nurse put the splint on Harry's arm, saying that they would give him some medicine at the hospital and she didn't want to give him anything for the pain yet, just in case. Harry was disappointed about that, but figured there wasn't anything he could do about it. He knew his Aunt wouldn't take him to the hospital. He would just have to deal with the pain. At least the splint made it feel slightly better.

Harry didn't like Mr. Baker's silence. In class the man was always telling funny jokes and was rarely quiet unless it was work time. It was unsettling that he was so silent.

When the Nurse was done, she gave Harry a sad look before giving Mr. Baker a pointed look and leaving. Mr. Baker sighed.

"Harry…" The man turned to look at the boy closely. Harry felt very exposed in the face of such a look. He ducked his head. "Mrs. Westerly is calling your guardians right now to inform them about your arm."

Harry paled. They couldn't call the Dursleys! He would get into so much trouble for this! Uncle Vernon was likely to kill him- or at least break his other arm!

But, he also knew that nothing he said would likely have any effect on whether they called the Dursleys or not. So, Harry just nodded to Mr. Baker. Hopefully, the man wouldn't notice his internal panicking.

"Harry- How did this happen?" The man questioned. "How did you break your arm?"

Quickly, Harry thought up a story. "Oh, this morning I was running down the stairs too quickly and I slipped and fell. I landed on my arm wrong. It didn't really hurt too bad, so I didn't think that anything was wrong with it." He hoped that Mr. Baker would believe him.

Glancing up at his teacher though, Harry knew that he didn't. "You broke your arm, but didn't think anything was wrong with it?" His teacher shook his head in disbelief. "Harry, I've broken my arm before. There is no way that it didn't hurt."

Harry didn't know what to say.

Thankfully, at that moment the door to the Nurse's office slammed open. "Boy! What did you do now?" His Aunt shrieked.

"Oh, hello. You must be Mrs. Dursley, Harry's guardian. I am his Maths teacher, Mr. Baker." The man introduced.

"Yes, hello. I am Mrs. Dursley. Now, what has the boy done? Why was I called here?"

"Well, Mrs. Dursley, it seems that your nephew has broken his arm. Do you have any idea how that could have happened?" He questioned.

His Aunt floundered for a moment, before saying. "The boy fell down the stairs." She answered shortly.

Mr. Baker eyed her closely. "Yes, that is was Mr. Potter said happened."

His Aunt nodded. Before glancing at Harry. Mindful of the audience, his Aunt came up to him and said, "Harry, why don't we go to the hospital and get your arm looked at? I'm sure it hurts terribly." Harry glanced at her questioningly. But decided to go with it and just nodded at her.

She guided him out of the office, while saying a curt goodbye to Mr. Baker. His Aunt had a tight grip on his upper left arm, and squeezed in threateningly as she whispered, "Boy, your Uncle will know about this when we get home."

Harry paled and nervously gulped. His hand shook as he opened the car door.

But, instead of taking them right home, Harry was surprised when his Aunt actually took him to the hospital. He had figured that she wouldn't ever actually take him there.

He was still in shock when he was being treated for his broken arm. Harry was again questioned about how he received the injury, but he used the same story about falling down the stairs and that seemed to pacify the doctors. After a couple of hours, Harry and his Aunt were back at Number 4 Privet Drive.

His Aunt was in a foul mood. One of the doctors and her had gotten into a disagreement because she was upset about how long they had to wait for Harry to be treated. Harry was just glad that his arm didn't hurt anymore.

The doctors had given him some pain medicine to take, and had written him a prescription for more. Harry doubted that his Aunt would fill the prescription, but the brief relief from pain was very welcome. His arm was in a nice white cast, and Harry wasn't afraid that it was going to fall off anymore. Which was definitely a good feeling.

As soon as they entered the house, his Aunt shrieked at him. "Boy! Go to your cupboard! I can't deal with you anymore."

Harry nodded politely, before quickly moving into his little cupboard under the stairs. When the door slammed shut behind him and he heard the bolts click, he breathed a sigh of relief. At least in his cupboard he was away from his Uncle. He did not want to be around the man when he found out about today.

And indeed, when the man found out the news later, the anger displayed was impressive. Harry could hear his bellows from the safety of his cupboard, and cowered into the corner of the cupboard. His Aunt and Uncle seemed to yell and argue for hours.

Harry shook in fear the entire time. He was terrified that his Uncle would get tired of arguing with his wife and instead decide to take his anger out on the source. Once, he even heard his Uncle start coming towards the cupboard with the intent to beat the freak for all the problems he's been causing lately. But, luckily for Harry, Petunia managed to stop the large man. Harry could just imagine the nasty red shade of his Uncle's face when that happened.

Harry could hear most of their argument from the cupboard, and none of it made him feel any better. Vernon was just incredibly angry, and blamed Harry for all of his problems. He was especially furious that Petunia had taken him to the hospital- it was expensive and why should they waste money on the freak?

Petunia for her part just tried to calm down her husband, while also say why Vernon couldn't attack the boy for a while. People were getting suspicious- especially that exceptionally horrid teacher of Harry's. They had to be careful for a little while, at least until school was out in a month. Harry found himself silently wishing that summer would never come.

But, it did.

The next month seemed to fly by for Harry, who only wanted it to slow down. Harry managed to avoid Mr. Baker as much as possible throughout the next month, and none of his other teachers noticed that anything was wrong. In fact, Harry doubted that anyone at school even noticed his cast besides from Mr. Baker and the Nurse.

Harry was able to escape notice at school, and while it was harder to complete his homework using his left-hand he was able to do it. Dudley got upset at him more than once though, because it would take longer for Harry to do his homework for him with his left-hand.

In fact, in the next month Harry was only caught by Dudley and his gang twice, and Vernon would only push him and yank him around a little. Nothing too serious, it seemed to him like Vernon was waiting for summer to do anything more.

Harry eventually got used to doing all of his chores with just his left hand, it was never as fast but he was able to do it. Aunt Petunia never did fill his prescription that the doctor wrote him, but Harry had guessed she wouldn't. That meant that his arm still hurt most of the time, but the pain was lessening as time went on.

By the time it was summer, Harry only ever felt twinges in it when he used it wrong. It wasn't nearly as bad, which he was very grateful for.

Harry did his best to avoid his Uncle and was surprised when he mostly succeeded. Chanting for no one to notice him in his head seemed to work when he didn't draw attention to himself. Harry had thought that the man would take advantage of Harry not being at school anymore to punish him for his earlier crimes.

But, Uncle Vernon mostly seemed to want to forget that Harry was even there. The only times he paid attention to the boy was when he wanted something done or Harry had done something very wrong.

Strangely it was Petunia that was being the worst to Harry. She was always smacking Harry on the head when he worked, and was making him do more chores than normal. She even hit him a few times with the frying pan when he was working too slow in the kitchen. Petunia hadn't done that to him in years- ever since he was old enough to cook properly.

It was what was making Harry so frustrated, lately. It was very normal for him to be doing chores most of the day during the summer, but this year he didn't have a moments rest.

He was woken up at the crack of dawn, and sent to make breakfast. Harry would be fed a piece of toast and a cup of cold tea if he did a good enough job with it.

Then for the rest of the day he was doing chores. The house was already spotless, so most of the time he was cleaning things that were already clean. It was very frustrating, and Harry just wanted a moment of peace.

After a long day of doing chores, he would help prepare dinner with his Aunt. It was very rare for Harry to actually get to eat any of the meal- but he did get to every once in a while. He was always grateful for those nights, it helped make the pain in his stomach lessen.

When he was younger and not used to the hunger pangs he would try to steal a bit of food from the kitchen when he was cooking. And when he was really desperate from the trash can. His Aunt and Uncle had eventually realized what he was doing though- and he was punished severely for it. Harry winced from the thought.

Now, whenever they didn't save their leftovers his Aunt would force Harry to pour dish soap over them in the trash can so that Harry couldn't steal them and eat them later. Harry didn't steal food from the trash anymore. But, she still insisted that he do it.

And every moment that wasn't spent doing work, was spent in his cupboard.

Harry experienced many long nights trapped in his little space, with only the pain from his stomach and arm to keep him company. Whenever his relatives would leave for the day they would lock Harry up in the cupboard so that they didn't have to take him with them or leave him with Mrs. Figg. In his Aunt's opinion the old woman was getting too nosy lately.

While he was frustrated, he was also thankful that his Uncle hadn't been paying much attention to him lately. His situation during the summer was bad- but it could be much worse.

Harry just couldn't wait for the summer to be over. His Aunt had already prepared his uniform for Stonewall High. The whole house had smelled for a week. And while it was just some of Dudley's old clothes dyed grey, and they looked terrible, it made Harry even more excited for summer to end.

Finally, he would get to go to a school without his Cousin! Maybe he would actually get to make some friends that wouldn't be chased off by Dudley or his gang. It was a wonderful thought.

Meanwhile, Dudley had been gloating the entire summer about going to Smeltings. He kept rubbing it in Harry's face that he would be going to a fancy private school, where they were given sticks that they could hit each other with. Harry had been hit with Dudley's Smeltings' Stick many times in the past few weeks.

Harry was due to get his cast off tomorrow, and he couldn't be more happy about it. The cast had been a symbol of that night to Harry, and reminded him of it everytime he looked at it. He was more than glad to see it go. He never wanted to think about that night again. The look in his Uncle's eyes would most likely haunt him forever.

Harry shuddered at the thought while continuing to mow the lawn. The heat was just as bad as ever, and he was sweating through his oversized t-shirt and jeans.

He was more than half way done with the lawn when he was startled by his Aunt slamming the back door open. "Harry! Get in here!" She shrieked.

For a moment, Harry was confused. She never called him by his first name if she could help it.

Nodding to her, he turned off the mower before quickly moving inside. He tried to duck under his Aunt's arm but he was grabbed harshly on his upper arm. "Don't say anything." She whispered warningly. She gripped his arm tightly and squeezed cruelly to get her message across.

Harry had no idea what was going on, but nodded anyway. His Aunt already seemed cross and it was always best to just agree with her when she was like this. He was just thankful that his Uncle was still at work. If his Aunt was this upset about something, than it was guaranteed that his Uncle would be furious.

She gripped his arm as she walked him to the sitting room. When he entered the boy was confused to see a man sitting on the couch.

He was tall, pale, and had greasy black hair. The man had a crooked nose and was glaring at Harry. Despite the heat, he was wearing a black suit. And he didn't appear to be sweating at all.

Harry looked questioningly at his Aunt. Who was this man?

His Aunt refused to say anything.

She wouldn't even look at him. In fact, the woman was glaring at the man in black with an expression that looked just like the one that she would look at Harry with. Why did his Aunt hate this man as much as she hated Harry? It just didn't make any sense.

After a moment the man sneered and stood up. His black eyes seemed to bore into Harry. "Mr. Potter," He looked like he had tasted something unpleasant. "I am Professor Snape from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." He swallowed and practically forced the next words out. "And I am here to offer you a place at the school."


End file.
